


The Wind Blows A Little Bit Colder

by tillyenna



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Gen, I'm so sorry, painfully canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25548496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillyenna/pseuds/tillyenna
Summary: The prompt for this week's weekly challenge was “Why can’t I be enough?” and I'm sorry guys, I instantly though of Henke and the fact that they're clearly gonna start Igor for the majority of the games in the bubble, and I just, my heart hurts a little bit.So this is Henrik, being given confirmation that they're giving all the starts to Igor, and then going home to his loving wife and children who love him. With a little bit of him calling his brother, who also loves him.This one hurt guys. It really did.
Relationships: Henrik Lundqvist/Therese Andersson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Juli is 5, Charlise has just turned 8
> 
> Title is from "Some Things Never Change" off of Frozen 2.... because reasons.
> 
> Benoit Allaire is the goaltending coach for NYR

Henrik raps once on the door frame with his knuckles, walking in before he waits for an answer – the door is open, and it’s not like David hadn’t called him to this meeting.

“Hank,” David looks up at him, his expression drawn and tight, “Shut the door would you?”

It’s not a surprise, Henrik knows how this conversation is going to go, he knows what they’re going to be discussing, he knows in his heart what he’s going to be told, but that doesn’t mean he wants to have the conversation. He sits down in the chair opposite the desk, nodding at Benoit.

Benoit Allaire has been his goaltending coach since he’d joined The Rangers, the coach having joined the franchise the year before Henrik – he’s one of his oldest friends, and his most trusted advisor, but they both know at the end of the day, it’s what’s best for the team, not what’s best for Henrik.

“Tell me Hank,” David leans across the desk at him, “How much do you want the cup?”

It’s a stupid question, because of course they all want the cup, Henke more than any of them, this is quite possibly his last shot at it, so of course he fucking wants it. Either his expression answers the question, or David hadn’t really wanted an answer, because the head coach carries on.

“Because you and I both know that our best shot at that cup is Shesty in the net.”

Henrik nods, even he can’t deny that the kid is good, is better than him. “And when he flags?” He asks, because it’s not a question of if with Igor, it’s definitely a question of when, his stamina is the one thing that lets him down.

“That’ll depend on how you and Georgie have been doing in practise.”

Henrik feels his jaw clenching and it takes concerted effort to relax it, he doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to show them how much they’re hurting him. He doesn’t look at Benoit, he can’t look at Benoit, because he’s known him too long, he’ll read the distress on his face. “And dressing for the games?”

“Igor likes having you there,” David tells him like he doesn’t know already, “So we’ll dress you for the majority.”

Henrik nods, it’s better than nothing, and he understands that the team comes first. “Was that all?” He doesn’t want to hang around, he’s not sure how much longer he can keep a handle on his emotions.

“I hope you know how much we appreciate everything you do Hank.” David sounds sincere at least, “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

Henrik bites his tongue, if they really appreciated him they’d have worked harder on a trade for Alex, but that’s not on the coaching staff, and it’s not fair on them for him to take it out on them. “Of course,” He forces a smile on his face, forces himself to meet David’s eyes, “We always knew this was coming.”

He excuses himself as best he can and makes his way to the parking lot – it’s safer these days to drive, and the city’s practically deserted anyway. On his drive, he finds his mind going to fucking Rinne, down in Nashville – because he’s living the life that Henke had dreamed of for himself, training up his young protégé, slowly the starts are shifting from Rinne having the majority to Saaros, but it’s gradual, and Rinne will be able to retire gracefully when he chooses to. That’s what Henrik and Igor were supposed to have had, that’s what the plan had been when they’d drafted him four years ago, but the allure of the fast money, fast cars and fast women of the Kontinental had clearly been to strong for the young Russian. He shouldn’t blame him, but he does – it’s because of that they’re trapped in this stupid situation that he should never have been put in.

As he gets into the house, he walks to the kitchen, and pours himself a glass of water, but as he looks down at the glass he sees his hands are shaking and he doesn’t know if it’s from anger or despair but it breaks him – his hands shaking, he’s supposed to have the steadiest hands of them all, and as he stares down at them and he can’t make them stop.

A sob escapes his lips and he hurls the fucking glass and it’s traitorous shaking at the opposite wall, where it smashes, scattering to the ground in a puddle of water and broken glass. He sinks to the floor, his back to the cabinets, his head in his hands because now the sobs have started they won’t stop and they’re wracking through his body and he can’t breathe.

There’s a soft voice in his ear, and a familiar hand rubbing circles on his back, and he lets himself lean into his wife until his breathing regulates itself a little better. “I’m sorry,” he manages to get out.

“Bad day?” Therese presses a soft kiss to his temple, kneeling on the floor with him.

“They’re starting Igor when we’re in the bubble.” It’s so stupid, his problems are so fucking insignificant, and it feels ridiculous to admit it, but he can’t stop crying.

“Oh love,” Therese is always there for him, she’s his rock and he leans into her.

“Why can’t I be enough?” He asks her softly, his face buried in her hair, not wanting to deal with the world.

“You are.” Therese cups his face gently with one of her hands, pressing a soft familiar kiss to his lips. “You are enough.”

He wants to believe her, he really does.

Suddenly, Therese’s head snaps up, “Stop.” She holds out one hand towards the door, “Juli, sweetie, you can’t come in here, there’s broken glass.”

Juli freezes in the doorway. “I wanted to see Papa.”

Therese pauses for a moment, and then, “How about, you do a very special job for me while I clean up in here.”

Juli nods earnestly, “What special job?”

Therese nudges Henrik up to standing, “I need you to take Papa to the living room and give him all the cuddles, because Papa needs a lot of cuddles right now, can you do that for me?”

Henrik shakes his head softly, he couldn’t love his wife more in that moment, and he holds his hand out to take Juli’s – letting her lead him to sit on the couch.

“What’s the matter Papa?” She asks him, climbing into his lap, “You hurting?” Her hands go towards his bad knee.

“Just sad pumpkin,” he presses a kiss to the top of her head, “Papa is very sad today.”

“Why are you sad Papa?” She frowns.

He shrugs, he doesn’t know how to explain to her that he’s sad because he’s getting old, that he’s sad because this part of his life isn’t going how he expected, that he’s sad because he feels everyone, inside his team and out, just wants him out of the way. “Just sad.” He tells her.

She shoots him a cheeky grin, “Not enough cuddles maybe?”

That brings the first true smile to his face since he’d walked into David’s office, “Never enough cuddles.” He pulls her into his arms, smothering her face in kisses, “I need all of the cuddles.”

She laughs up at him, “Papa I can’t just give you cuddles all day,” she tells him, then with a look of utter sincerity on her face adds, “I have things to do.”

He raises a brief eyebrow, she’s five, he’s not sure what things she has to do, but she goes on to list them for him.

“I need to play lego, and shopkins, and do dancing and eat my lunch.”

“Very important things,” he agrees, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

It’s then that his older daughter, Charlise, appears. “Papa?” She asks nervously, “You ok?”

He lifts up his other arm, and she crawls into his other side, snuggling up to him. “Sorry,” he tells her, presuming she heard the crash from the kitchen, “I’m not having the best day.”

“Is it because I didn’t tidy my room?” She asks hesitantly.

“No,” Henrik assures her, pressing a kiss into her hair, “No Charlise, you are perfect, even with your messy room.”

“Oh,” She grins up at him, “Good.”

They end up curled up on the couch for most of the afternoon, watching the new frozen movie, again, but he finds he doesn’t mind – and he’ll be off to the bubble soon enough, so he cherishes these moments with his girls.

He calls Joel before it gets too late however, because Joel is 6 hours ahead of him (which doesn’t make him six hours older no matter how many times Joel tries to convince him it does.)

He feels himself choking up as he recalls the conversation with David.

“They’re not starting me,” he tells him, Joel will understand in a way that nobody else ever seems to.

“That Russian kid instead?” Joel asks him, he’s never bothered learning their names.

“They’re both sort of Russian kids,” Henrik points out, Georgie plays for team Russia even if he wasn’t born there.

“The good Russian kid then.”

Henrik hums, “That one.” He scrubs his hand through his hair, “Why does getting old have to be so hard huh?” It’s a rhetorical question really. “I just want to play hockey, I just want to do what I love.”

“Come home then,” Joel tells him, as if it’s that simple, and it’s beginning to seem to Henrik like it might be.

“I will.” It hadn’t been the plan, his plan had always been to work out his contract before going back to Sweden, but now he isn’t so sure.

“Next year?” Joel’s badgering him again, like he always does, desperate to have his twin back at his side.

Henrik sighs, “I’m not promising anything.” It’s the first time he hasn’t outright said no though, and they both know it.

“I miss you.” Joel tells him honestly, it’s been over a decade since they played in the same league, and the ache doesn’t get any easier for either of them.

“Not long now,” Henrik tells him, and he’s not entirely sure whether he’s talking to Joel or to himself, because whether it’s a few months or another year, the thought that he will be going home soon, the thought that there are teams in Sweden that are desperate for him, makes the heartbreak, the constant reminder that New York doesn’t love him anymore, that little bit easier to bear.


	2. I'm coming home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There wasn't going to be a second chapter, but this fitted well enough with the first that I thought it could work here rather than a standalone. Keep all the pain in one place.

Henrik skates across the ice, his legs moving, feeling like he’s left his heart behind. He pats Igor on the head because it’s what’s expected of him, but he doesn’t look him in the eye, he can’t look him in the eye.

Mostly, the locker room is quiet, dejected when they skate off and he strips his pads efficiently. There’s a few murmurings, and fucking DiAngelo is spouting off angrily, which helps precisely no-one. Henrik can’t meet anyone’s gaze, he knows there will be people who want to check up on him, but he doesn’t want anyone to check up on him, he’s too damn angry.

He showers quickly, he doesn’t really need it having done nothing but sit and sweat in his pads, but its routine, and he likes his routine. Marc tries to catch him by the arm as he walks past, but he shakes it off – if Marc starts talking to him now he’s not going to be able to control himself.

When he gets back to his stall, Shesty is hovering nervously, waiting before he goes to his own shower.

“Henrik…” he begins.

“Don’t.” Henrik shouldn’t snap, but he does, the last thing he wants is pity from him of all fucking people. “Just don’t.” His voice cracks, and he bites his lip hard.

“Henke,” Mika steps up behind him, his voice soft and familiar.

Henrik just shakes his head, he doesn’t even want comfort from Mika today, if Mika had gotten off his ass and scored then perhaps, but he hadn’t, so Henrik doesn’t.

“You should let one of us…” Mika starts

Henrik can’t help himself, he whirls around facing his teammates, “No,” he says simply, “I shouldn’t. I don’t have to, and frankly, I don’t fucking want any of you near to me right now.” He turns back to his locker, pulling his pants on angrily. “You’ve all let me down.” He bites, “Every last one of you.”

Everyone is silent, and that’s good, he wants them to hurt, he wants them to understand, understand what they’ve taken from him. He pulls his clothes on as quickly as he can, and grabs his things to head back to the hotel, because honestly, the last thing he wants right now is company.

When he gets back to his room, he contemplates calling Joel, but it’s late enough where they are, and Joel’s 6 hours ahead of him, so it’s the middle of the damn night. He’ll call him in a few hours when Joel should be up for breakfast – Joel understands him, he always does. He’s just thinking about running himself a bath, when there’s a soft knock at the door.

He flings the door open, about to verbally lay into whichever of his teammates clearly didn’t get the memo in the locker room that he hates every single last one of them, that they all let him down. Instead, he’s greeted with a sheepish grin.

“Thought maybe you want company?”

He lets his eyes flicker over his teammate, and the nods, standing aside so he can walk in the door.

“I brought book, so you don’t need to talk if you don’t want.” Georgiev flashes him a small smile, “Or we can have cuddles and you can talk to me about it.”

“You don’t do cuddles.” Henrik says slowly, his voice cracking.

“I’m making an exception.” Sasha tells him, “Because…” he frowns, his English failing him for a moment, “Because you need a hug, and I’m the only one you can’t be angry at.”

“No?” Henrik questions him for a moment, raising an amused eyebrow.

Georgie gives a shrug, “Hardly my fault,” he snorts, “I’ve not set foot on the fucking ice.”

Henrik can’t argue with that, he toes off his shoes, and pulls his pants off, standing in his briefs and an undershirt, before he climbs into his bed, pulling the covers aside to let Sasha climb in the other side.

It’s uncomfortable at first, they’re not used to each other, and whilst most hockey players are cuddly, Sasha is quiet and keeps mostly to himself, but eventually he ends up tucked under Henrik’s arm, his head resting on Henrik’s shoulder.

“I am sorry though.” He says eventually, his voice soft and gentle.

“Don’t be.” Henrik huffs a little laughter, “It’s hardly your fault.” He turns a little so he can press a kiss to Sasha’s head. “It was so much fucking simpler when it was just you and me no?”

Sasha’s answering laugh is just as bitter as he feels, “Fuck him.” He says bluntly, and there’s no doubt about who he means.

“Fuck him.” Henrik agrees, which is a lot easier for him to say, because Sasha’s the one who’ll have to work with him in the future. He gives a sigh, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” and then, unbidden, unwanted, the tears start to fall.

Georgie shifts, so he’s the one sitting upright, pulling Henrik into his chest, he holds him there for a moment, and it’s a little odd, because Henrik has been his mentor for the past 3 years, Henrik has been the one who looked after him, but now he’s the one who’s looking after Henrik.

Henrik holds onto Sasha and lets the tears flow, because the pain means he has no other option. He knew this was coming, knew that at some point his career would end, but that it had to happen like this, on a broken season, not even at the end of his contract – he’s under no illusions that the Rangers will want him to stay next year, which hurts, because he’s given them 15 years of his life, and it’s not like he hadn’t had other offers, it’s not like he couldn’t have gone somewhere where he’d had had more chance at the cup, but he believed in the organisation, he was loyal. He’d given them everything when they had nothing, and now he’s the one with nothing and they just don’t seem to care.

He can’t voice any of this to Sasha, Sasha who will likely stay on as Igor’s second – that seems to be what the organisation want after all, so instead he lies there and cries, the man who’s been his back-up for the past few years holding him close.

He must fall asleep, because when he blinks the room is dark, and Georgiev is asleep in the bed next to him. He grabs his phone to check the time, it’s just gone one, which means Joel will be getting up soon. He fires off a quick text message, it’s short, it doesn’t tell of what he’s feeling, but his twin will know anyway.

“I’m coming home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamnit boys, I really had hope you were gonna pull this one out of the bag for Henke. How dare you let him down like this :(

**Author's Note:**

> The conversation between Henrik and Juli is an exact conversation I had with my 4 (nearly 5) year old yesterday. So I guess she gets some credit for this one ;)
> 
> Come cry at me about how mean the rangers org are to Henke over at [@princesstillyenna](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/princesstillyenna)


End file.
